The Tepakhe Facility
by Asurnasurpal
Summary: This is an original piece I've been working on in conjunction to a tabletop RPG campaign I've been GMing. It's partially a tool I'm using to examine the story my players are making, but mostly a way for me to explore the setting. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think! Lots of aliens, misdirection, and worldbuilding.
1. Part I, A Thief

**Part I  
A Thief**

Warm, fat raindrops pattered Fawkes' collar. He squinted into the distance, just able to make out the shape of an odd, square building.

"That looks like it." He pointed.

His companions tried to spot it too. Nel stood on her toes, widening her eyes in that odd way caelumnen do when they're trying to see something. Bubbles clambered onto Fawkes' shoulder, making the human stumble and curse under his breath. He knew that after all that time and effort spent in the labbo's caves he should have been used to it, but he wasn't. There was just something inherently uncomfortable about the way they clung to you. Their skin was clammy and smooth, like a fish. Tui made no visible effort to look for the building, and continued plodding forward impetuously.

The only other human with them was just as stoic. Gaunt and wiry, the man had showed up in town only about a week before. Never spoke with anyone, just sat in the inn, sipping sake and tapping at a dataslab. Fawkes wasn't exactly the most savory person either, but something about the guy just seemed off. But he paid well, and Fawkes needed the money, especially now that Laroa had written him off as a criminal. He resented that. It was true, of course, but he still resented it.

His triumvirate of alien friends had shown up a couple days ago. Just in time too. He had been trying to help a burgeoning hive of labokil refugees hidden in an old mineshaft, but people had started to get suspicious about the missing food and nocturnal sounds. The labbo's had taken his warnings as threats. If it weren't for the intervention of the odd party before him, Fawkes suspected he would have been killed for his troubles.

And now here they were, off to secure some special artifact from a collapsing factory at the behest of mystery man du jour, the illustrious Mr. Abhe.

"Don't approach the door until my signal," Abhe said. His voice sounded strained and came in short panting bursts. It seemed he was not one for hiking. "There have been rumors of a vaniin *huff* pirate gang about. They may have *huff* taken up residence here."

Fawkes smirked. He had heard the rumors. In this part of Qari, most of the local bumpkins had never even seen a vaniin, let alone a pirate. There was no chance that a gang would be this far inland. The others seemed to believe the story easily enough. Bubbles had been hiding in and around Junkyard most of hir life, where pirates were always an issue. Ze seemed to think that the rest of the world must be like that too. And Nelthilta was voidborn, used to live on some luxury liner. She hadn't a clue about life planetside. Surely Tui would have figured it out by now, but he could out poker face a rock. If he knew that this was bullshit, he certainly didn't show it.

They had gotten close enough to the factory to make it out clearly by then. A series of bombed out concrete shells encircled a central square mass that straddled the deep Tepakhe river. A tiny, metal door stood by the river, with only a few small windows on the second floor. The place looked like it had been designed by a computer.

Abhe gathered the five of them into one of the shells. Taking a knife, he began to scrape a crude drawing into the concrete. "The entrance leads to a small atrium. There are like security measures to prevent anyone without ID to enter the facility proper without triggering an alarm, provided this place still has power." He drew a long hall, topping it with a square. "Beyond the atrium will be a corridor. Several low-security labs and offices should stem from it. Here, at the end, will be a security checkpoint. Beyond this will be a locker room, and the main 'factory floor.' We'll need to go through there to get to the stairwell. I believe that what we're looking for will be upstairs, in the high-security offices."

Bubbles nodded. "Nel. Flare, if painless. Tui, is vaniin?" Tui already was peering through the scope of his hunting rifle, peeked around the corner of the concrete.

"Yes. I see two shapes. Both have the right profile. Abhe, how many do you think?"

"Intel says eight to ten-"

"Intel's wrong." Tui interrupted. "Locals exaggerate. Embedded inland. Conclusion of dry season. Vaniin semi-amphibious. Provided incursion is minuscule, area could not support more than six." His voice was thin and reedy, but he spoke with a strange fluidity, his words melting one into the other. "Bublinkovi, windows clear." Bubbles stood and moved to dash, before Abhe hissed and pulled him back.

"Stop it, will you? This place dealt with a number of highly corrosive agents. I'm sure you've noticed the grass." The plant life did look odd. Pale and sickly, and brittle to the touch. The whole place smelled like iron and rubbing alcohol. "If you see any liquids, avoid them as best you can. They'll burn. And for the love of Kashi, wait for my signal."

Bubbles' nose twitched. Ze looked at Fawkes and motioned to hir back. Reluctantly, Fawkes hiked the barefoot labbo onto his shoulders. Nel nervously twirled a length of rope between her fingers. Tui continued to stare through the scope.

"Now would be good." He muttered. Abhe sighed.

"Move!"


	2. Part II, A Priest

**Part II**  
**A Priest**

Kraz-Litso groaned softly as the litter-bearers helped hir into the basket. Ze could feel the vuul's warmth beyond the wicker, the gentle, heavy movement of its deep breaths. Ze had to pull hirself up to the lip of the container to see out, but the sight made hir smile. Izognus and Ukho were taking their places in the pack, acolytes tenderly lifting up their wrinkled old bodies and placing them into their respective baskets. Izognus had already dozed off. Kraz turned and saw Zaigyv across from hir, standing at least a head over the rest of the siim. Ze winked at Kraz.

"Even after harvest they can't leave us alone. I can hardly blame them. We always were the most beautiful."

Kraz couldn't help but laugh. It was true once. They were beautiful once. Very beautiful. Back then they were seven. In some ways it felt like it was only yesterday. Long mornings spent painting each other's backs in beautiful patterns before taking to the market. Starting water-fights as they scrubbed Zmeya's scales in the temple. The month-long stretches when they were in heat, a mass of laughing-moaning bliss, gleefully exploring each other's bodies. Everyone called them beautiful. Surely, there had never been a happier siim.

You could still see a hint of that beauty in Zaigyv now. Ze still stood tall and clean, with skin that did not sag and droop. But they were all old now. Old and sleepy and content. They were the priests now, and each day they watched new siimil laugh and work and grow to be as beautiful as labok could be.

A child had woken them. A little thing, no more than three. Ze had come into their chamber clanking a pot with a wooden spoon, crying that they were summoned in the temple, each word a lisp. In exchange for hir service, Ukho had given hir a shiny gold coin and a sweet yellow mushroom.

They were approaching the temple now, the vuul trundling through the heavy, embroidered curtains. A boney acolyte helped them onto the tall bench at the chamber's heart, circling a softly glowing heater. Kraz-Litso woke Izognus with a soft squeeze of the hand.

"It is a priest's duty to serve the hive, no matter the hour or cost or fright." Ze teased. Izognus chuckled. The wirey acolyte clapped for attention.

"Wise priests, we ask your council for one za-narod, an overfolk of the human hives of UPF, seeks emissary with you. Will you permit it?"

"Aye," called Zaigyv.

"Aye," called Ukho. The others followed suit.

The man who came in stood at almost twice the height of the acolyte, and he absolutely towered over the shrunken and hunched forms of the council before him. He had smooth-glassy looking hair that hugged his scalp, and wore those human robes of formality, with dark cloth and soft pale stripes running vertically down it. His skin was very pale, and his teeth were too. He wore a small metal badge colored in the red-black-yellow crosshatch of his tribe's flag.

"Hail to you, wise _zmeyishil_" He bowed, speaking a mixture of Lingua Franca and broken Yazak. Whenever he stumbled upon a foreign word he emphasized it, as though it would make them more important. "I bring sad news. My people own this _rog_. Your _uley_ must move."

"What?" said Izognus.

"Our _zmeyisha_ has claimed this land. You must leave."

"You cannot own a _rog_." Ukho's voice was full of condescension. "A mountain can be owned no more than a cloud."

Clearly this man was confused. Kraz cleared hir throat and spoke up.

"Uley do not move. Do your cities have legs? Or wheels?" The human opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Zaigyv.

"He does not mean the uley; he means the hive. He thinks our people should move." Izognus balked and spat.

"And while should pod-narod obey za-narod? Why should we give up the mountain?" The human blinked.

"My people's chairman has claimed this land. We do not have any systems in place to allow for your citizenship within the UPF, but we are willing to give-"

"There is no problem then," interrupted Ukho. Ze motioned to an acolyte and took their dataslab in hand. "Look, we have laws to allow for your presence here. You do not want the Uley, so as long as you maintain-"

"I'm afraid we cannot concede that. You presence would go against our laws. But please, we will give you great concessions for this. All you need-"

"We don't care about your laws!" Kraz-Litso coughed and wheezed. "We don't… We don't care about your laws. We don't care about your chairman, or your za-narodi people! And we do not care to hear whatever insult you have planned to give us in trade. Your people hate us. We know this well. And we will hate you in kind. Leave the mountain. She is not for you!"

No one spoke. In the distance, the sound of arguments, laughter, and barter echoed faintly. The child who had woken them stumbled into the room, rubbing hir eyes. Ze tugged on the robes of n acolyte.

"Are the priethtth angry?" The acolyte picked hir up, cradling hir in hir arms. They walked out, the acolyte cooing softly at the child. The human turned to the acolytes.

"Lead me away. I am sorry to hear that you will not even hear our proposal." An acolyte led him away. Zaigyv cleared hir throat.

"Zmeya needs to hear of this."


	3. Part III, A Veteran

**Part III**  
**A Veteran**

Nebalnathil gingerly knocked on the heavy wooden door. It had taken her most of the morning to find her way here. The city was large, and the old woman she had gone to see was not the best at giving directions. The house itself blended into the surroundings. Tall, slender, stone built. An enormous tree was growing up alongside it, gnarled and bent with age. Not unlike the woman who came to the door.

"Hello? Who tis? Visitors I'll not be havin'! Actually, not here at all am. At the market am. Go away!"

"E'Sel Petharana? Mrs. Peth? Me it is, the girl from the museum. An interview you agreed to."

The woman peered cautiously through the curtains, her eyes a burst of pink and green and yellow. The curtains closed, and a series of loud clicking noises emanated from behind the heavy wooden door. It creaked open, and a scaly head popped out from behind it.

"Come in. Quickly. Afore me they see."

The atrium was a long, wood-paneled room, full of cloak-hangs and little cushioned benches. The smell of burnt toast mingled with incense as Nebalnathil disrobed. Peth went to work on a series of locks on the door, climbing from floor to ceiling.

"Bloody pests, the lot. All thinkin' I've some secret treasure. All tryin' my will to squirm into. 'Oh hello E'Sel. How are you doing E'Sel? Can I carry your bags for you E'Sel?' Vultures, the lot of them." E'Sel Petharana was incredibly active for her age. Her scales were a soft blue-green, but she was covered head to toe in red squamae speckles, the larger plates clinging to her elbows, shoulders, and knees. She wore a long, raggedy robe that looked as though she had slept in it. Nebalna moved to the hearth.

"Is my seating licit?" She asked, motioning to an overstuffed chair facing the fireplace. Peth nodded and joined her guest, flopping into a wide lounger which seemed to swallow her into its soft folds. She sighed, happily.

"E'Sel Peth, is it well for me to start? Record our conversation I needs must." Peth opened an eye and lazily waved her on with one of her lower arms. Nebalna fumbled in her pack for a few moments before producing a dataslab and setting it on her lap, her tail curling around her legs.

"Now E'Sel, originally born on Caelum you were, is that correct?" Peth giggled.

"No it _pedicatens_ isn't, voidborn am." She stretched. "My 'rents ne'er I knew, but I know it was on a ship I hatched. Crew took me to the Iktym when next they landed. Hap't t'be the homeworld. Irotih, actually. The old capital."

"So raised by the Iktym you were? You didn't go willingly?"

"Aye. The first memory of mine, harvest day tis. Think it… 30 years PGW twas? I can't remember. It's all… jumbled up now. Most everything before the war is."

"Could you tell me about it?"

"What, the festival or the war?"

"Let's start with the festival." Peth smiled.

"Not much I can remember now. But I do recall… Aye… A page twas. Little thing. No taller than a labbo. Our knight to the fairgrounds had taken us. People had lit the place with candles in gourds. Cold twas. The first snows started to sprinkle. Ground all muddy and sticky. Fresh sweet bread. Air rich and thick. A great big tub, filled with hot cider, twas. A pretty young girl was swimming in it, naked. Another page tried to join her. Knight twasn't pleased." An enormous grin stretched across her face. "Dared her to do it, I had."

"Would you say your memories of your childhood pleasant were?" Peth paused for a while. Her upper hands tapped her lips as she thought, her lower ones wrapped across her belly.

"I s'pose. It's hard to say. Long and hard twas, aye, but nought 'ceptin good things did I learn. The Iktym teaches harder work and sharper minds than any o' your guilds do."

"Do you remember when the war began?"

"Course! Any who were there recall. Two-and-forty years twas I, nine of those a knight. The nine had been three weeks a 'hidden, all closed up in their great grey spire, all awhisperin' and awhickerin' on the year-old war tween Paper-Folk-Akto and Broke-a-State-Humans. Heard the news of colonies made glass we had, and angry, afeared folk were. Seems the old masters had gone a step too far for people's tastes. We all knew the verdict. We were just awaitin' for the cowls to catch up to the kids." She straightened herself, staring into the unlit fireplace.

"The criers were where we heard it first. They shriekin' like some mother made childless, twere. 'Shattered we are!' They cried, 'And burnin'!' The old shout for blood. The cry they tell children 'bout in storybooks, to afear em fore bed. None such words have moved my bones as them sweet-simple cry. 'Shattered we are, and burnin'!'"

"In the war, did ever you see combat?"

"Aye, that I did. I watched my squires go down weepin' to Beast-Flesh-Kala. I saw cities to glass be turned. But we gave them a taste of glass too." She pointed to the mantelpiece. "There. Take her down. Let me feel her." Nebalna stood and retrieved the long, heavy blade. Wrapped in leather, it looked archaic, like some iron weapon from ages past. Peth unwrapped it slowly, revealing the green, translucent blade.

"They let me keep her, after the gate closed. A reminder. Out there is where I'm supposed to be. My… My pages…" Tears were welling in her eyes. "They were stationed in the next system. To deliver the body I was meant… In her last few days to watch her, with her family. Both her families. And then I'd return." Peth winced and held the sword's pommel to her forehead, her tail twitched violently. "But to see mine own again, I ne'er had the chance!" She wrapped her lower arms tightly around herself, as if holding in some creature trying to burst out.

"Ever have you killed, girl?" She did not wait for an answer. "I have. Long ago my vengeance I had, before even I knew what it would be for. Boarding a ship. Twenty retainers lost in the first wave. Kala in the halls, stood. Akto, behind their Slave-Bound-Kala, fleeing to hide. Screaming. War-hymns, in my ears still ring. As my squires fell, I slipped behind. I ne'er was seen.

"Akto are not soft. Hard they are. Brittle, like thin candy. When cut, rustle do they, like dry leaves. Leaves that scream. I settled my hands that day. Afore the end, the captain begged. He knew my face, from when he first took my squires from me. For mercy he begged, with all the gold of the verse rattling in his mouth." Peth hissed. "But vengeance hasn't a room for mercy to lodge."


End file.
